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Tuesday, April 21, 2015

Berlin by Way of the Twilight Zone

I dreamed that I was lost in Berlin on a chill Halloween night. I was trying to get to the apartment of some friends but the streets were jam packed with revelers. Young 20-something bacchanalians were everywhere, spilling out of apartment buildings and pushing to get into others.
This was Berlin but it wasn't.

While running down a spiral staircase within a red brick tenement, whose shindig could only be better attended with the generous infusion of KY, I lost my security blanket. Yup, I’d been clutching my beloved bunny appliqued flannel from crib days tightly to my chest—possibly the only thing that’d been keeping me from dissolving into a puddle of screams. I didn’t stop though—I couldn’t. I HAD to get out of that mass of humanity. Severe regret had taken up residence in my heart but agreed to chill until after I was safely out of the crowds. Mighty decent of it, eh?

Finally I escaped the madness and found myself in the near empty, high ceilinged, Japanese tea house styled loft/office of an architect where I asked for help/directions. She offered to call my friends so they could come by and collect me.

The dream ended there with the wonderful sleek woman making a call while I sank into the comfort of clear sight-lines, floor to ceiling windows, room occupancy nowhere near max and a martini—Sapphire, extra, extra dry, straight up with olives.

Yes.

What does all this mean? Got me hangin' but I think I'll be sending my regrets to all party invites for the foreseeable future.